


Prompt #8 (90-Prompt Challenge)

by GlitterBombLove



Series: Prompts - 90 Challenge [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Flash Fic, Horror, Prompt Fic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterBombLove/pseuds/GlitterBombLove
Summary: Prompt #8Genre: FantasyDecember 19, 2020Prompt Idea: Meeting at a Coffee ShopSource: Original
Series: Prompts - 90 Challenge [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052597





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This piece will be expanded to a few more scenes / prompts in upcoming weeks.

Malin stepped into the coffee shop from the pouring rain. She scanned the customers waiting for their drinks at the counter and those seated at the tables. She was told to look for a woman with a red satin scarf tied around her neck. She spotted her at a table next to the gas fireplace. The mousy-looking woman was grasping a cup tightly and staring absently at the blue flames. 

"Cozy spot." Malin stood in front of her and waited. "Mrs. Ivers?

The woman jolted with a startled look and peered up at Malin. The expression changed from shock to incredulity as her eyes travelled up and down Malin. Malin was used to it. People often got flustered at the first visitation. This lady looked scared and disbelieving. She waited for the woman to absorb the situation. 

"I....y-yes." 

"It's nice to meet you then." 

"Are you...?"

Malin shook her head. She seated herself in an empty chair across from the woman without being invited. She tugged off her leather gloves one by one, resting them on the table top. Water dripped from them and pooled slightly. She ran her bare hand over her head. The hair was smooth and slick from being drenched from the rain. Droplets slid from her leather jacket, but she did not mind the messiness. She was still getting used to sensations and feeling again. 

"Just consider me a proxy. I've been sent to help you, if you make the decision." 

"How do I know this isn't just a joke or some con scheme?" Mrs. Ivers bit her lower lip and tears glistened in her eyes. "Maybe you saw me on the news and decided to play a sick joke?"

"You called for us. You don't have to speak to me. Send us away." Malin said. Malin knew the woman should tell her to leave right now if she knew what was good for her. No one ever did.

The woman lowered her head. "C-can you really find my child?"

Malin folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward. "Mrs. Ivers, you can only imagine what we would be willing to do for you. Our depth of resources. The ends we would be willing to go. You've heard stories about us. Most are true. The question is ... do you understand what we will require in payment?"

Mrs. Ivers paled and nodded slowly. 

"We'll need you to say it. It's a formal technicality -- but all parties need to hear you say the words aloud."

The woman squeezed her eyes tightly and then opened them. Her eyes reflected despair and a spark of rage. "I would do anything to find my child. No one can help me. I've tried everyone. I've waited for the police to find her. I've hired detectives. I've even used psychics! I PRAYED to God endlessly! Nothing happened!"

"Mrs. Ivers, " Malin said patiently. "The words. I need you to say them exactly as you said them last night when you called for us. What did you say last night?"

"I want my child found. I'll sell my soul to the Devil for it. Find my baby!" 

Malin leaned back and exhaled, feeling a surprising twinge of disappointment. "Accepted."


	2. Introducing Noah

Noah rang the doorbell with a shaky hand. He shoved his hands deep inside the pockets of his rumpled jacket. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, rehearsing his greeting. He needed to speak with Mrs. Ivers right away. He planned to bypass the housekeeper somehow and beg to see her. Every moment counted.

He shook floppy bangs away from his eyes and peered through the multi-colored stained glass embedded in the front door. A blurred figure moved behind the glass towards him. He smiled nervously into the digital security camera.

He hoped Mrs. Ivers remembered him. The cherry trees on the grounds were in full bloom when he was last here. It was spring but felt much longer. The mansion was crowded with officers and the news crews were camped out across the street. He figured Mrs. Ivers would have missed a tall, skinny young man, haunting the edges of the crime scene. He had felt so sorry for her. She stumbled through her home looking shell-shocked and broken hearted. Everything that day was probably cloudy to her.

Noah was miserable when he failed to find any helpful new clues. He wanted to help so badly. But two hours ago, he had breakthrough - a powerful and violent dream - about the case. He urgently called Detective Anderson but was told that he was gone on a well-needed vacation. The police operator said the detective would be back on Friday and asked to take a message. For a moment, Noah thought about asking for another detective but he shot down the idea. He remembered the snide remarks, snickers and rolled eyes every time other officers saw him. Even though he delivered solid leads from time to time, he was still considered a crackpot by many in the department except for Detective Anderson. He was on his own and needed to act fast.

Noah had such a strong feeling, he did something he never done before. He jumped in his 1995 Hyundai Scoupe and drove to the upscale neighborhood where the Ivers family lived to talk to the mother. He stood there now, trying to settle himself down. Maybe the housekeeper would block him from seeing her or maybe they would call the police and report him. The worst case scenario would be humiliation, but at least he would know he tried. 

The door opened. Noah was surprised to see Mrs. Ivers, standing there. She looked drained and somber. He smiled politely and cleared his throat to speak slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her. He opened his mouth to introduce himself. 

"You're the psychic." Mrs. Ivers said crisply. "I remember you. Useless."


End file.
